Dark God Read Online Free PDF

the Black Lord really cut
those runes?"
    He nodded. "Yes."
    "Why?"
    "So I could use the power."
    "What else did they do to
you?"
    A short silence fell, then he
muttered, "Many things."
    "Like what?"
    Bane sighed, glancing at her.
"Like making me drink things that made me sick, taunting and
tormenting me, chasing me when I was too young to fight back. They
made me break rocks and dig tunnels."
    "But they thought you were the
Black Lord's son. How could they do that?"
    "He said that it was to make me
strong, but I will hazard that he did not really mind."
    "No, I suppose not."
    Bane continued to eat, his dour
expression discouraging further enquiries.
     
    The next day
was predictably dark, with thick black clouds hurrying overhead and
ash falling in a steady rain. The demon steed galloped over ash-covered meadows, then slowed
to enter another forest. Mirra clung to the stallion's mane,
leaning forward to avoid unnecessary contact with Bane, more for
his sake than hers, since he was the one who disliked being
touched.
    Unfortunately
for him, she was almost sitting in his lap, so some contact was
unavoidable. She liked being so close to him, even though his touch
made her shiver, but had no doubt that he did not enjoy the
situation. She wondered why he made her sit in front of him, when
Dorel had sat behind. Perhaps it was because of the packs that took
up most of the stallion's rump, or because he did not want her
clinging to his waist, as the droge had. Another possibility was
that he did not want her to suffer the effects of the dark power, and after some
consideration, she decided that must be the reason. She shivered
when she recalled how he had killed Agden, and tried not to dwell
on it.
    To distract herself from the
deadly power of the man who sat so close behind her, she thought
about the robbers they had encountered the previous day, pitying
them. They could have been men who had once followed Bane, and were
now outcasts from their communities, forced to live in the forests
and steal for a living. The fact that they had not recognised him,
even after seeing the rune scars, made that unlikely, however. From
the gossip in the towns they had passed through, she had learnt
that since Bane's march through the New Kingdom, outlaw bands had
become rife. They were men with no homes or families, deserters
from defeated armies, and his own men, footloose and
bloodthirsty.
    As if to
confirm her thoughts, the demon steed dug in its hooves and stopped. It reared and
whinnied a warning as dozens of ragged, mounted men boiled from the
trees and closed in from all sides. A man with a club hit Bane from
behind. He fell, rolling several times in the ash, and Mirra slid
from the stallion's back as he knocked her sideways. He tried rise
to his feet, but his attacker was already beside him, and a kick
sent him sprawling. Dirty hands grabbed Mirra, and the demon steed
lashed out with teeth and hooves. The men attacked it with swords
and knives, not noticing the tiny flames that licked from the
wounds in the stallion's glossy red hide before it galloped
away.
    Bane clasped his ribs, while
Mirra struggled in the grip of a stocky, bearded brigand. The
leader, a gaunt man with a long white scar down his cheek and a
patch over one eye, swaggered over to Bane. As with the previous
band, the men wore soiled finery and battered armour, their weapons
rusted and worn. Bane tried to rise, but the bandit pushed him down
with his foot. Bane's eyes glinted with fury, and Mirra prayed that
he would keep his temper and his power leashed. The bandit squatted
down and searched him, coming away empty handed. The men searched
the pack again too, with identical results.
    The leader turned to Mirra,
raking her tattered robe with cynical eyes. "A healer, hey?" he
sneered, raising a brawny arm wrapped in a rough bandage stained
with brown blood. "Heal this."
    Mirra shrank back. "I
cannot."
    "I knew it." His eyes gleamed.
"You're no healer. You're just disguised as